


Not Yet Day

by WindStainedDreams



Category: Original Work
Genre: Amnesia, Celtic Mythology & Folklore, Celtic Woman, Celtic music, Drunk Sex, Established Relationship, F/F, Fae & Fairies, Femslash, Long-Term Relationship(s), Níl sé'n lá, Original Character(s), Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, Strangers to Lovers, but not really, inspired by a song, wlw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:01:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23369638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WindStainedDreams/pseuds/WindStainedDreams
Summary: A woman meets an unexpected stranger that isn't so unknown.  The nights they spend together are longer than any other.
Relationships: Dana/Rhia, OC/OC
Kudos: 6





	Not Yet Day

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the song [Níl sé'n lá](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zsewvO75Mgw) by Celtic Woman. Its worth listening to it while reading. I went with "What if you were the person who was being visited, then what?" and this came about.

The thunk of the knife into the wood was satisfying as it split the carrots, potatoes and herbs. The wind in the leaves and occasional bird call were the only other sounds as she prepared her meal. The meat was sitting, browned and salted, ready to join the rest in the pot of stew. There would be too much food for her, as there always was. Sunlight lit the kitchen and her worktable. Her hands continued their rhythmic work, and she let the warmth of the golden light fill her heart as she started to hum. 

The threads tangled again, drawing her focus away from the pattern she’d been stitching as she noticed the dimmer light. Sunset wasn’t far off. The stew smelled wonderful, and her stomach rumbled. With a sigh she put aside her tangled thread and rose to check the bubbling broth. The carrots were soft. Perfect. Grabbing her pail, she went out to her small well and brought up some cool water to drink and wash her bowl later. The fresh evening air made her smile as she closed the door behind her. The gate in the low wall around her house was closed, securely latched. The hens were chased into the coop and the small door closed for the night. The cat wandered around her ankles as she filled the bucket, water splashing her feet. Indignant hissing followed her until the door closed and latched in place, and then the fire was too alluring to pass up. The glare of green eyes was lit by the flames keeping dinner warm. 

As she reached to close the window over the table, the last rays of the setting sun faded and the forest embraced dusk. The wind seemed to carry a hum of long forgotten words, but a shake of her head had her focusing on her meal. Window shuttered and bowl full, she could finally try to untangle the mess of her embroidery. Taking her lamp she settled on her stool and finished her meal with absent bites as she watched the needle dance through the cloth of her skirt. 

Sewing had always been hypnotic to her, and so the gate clattering open made her drop her bowl to the floor. The needle pricked her finger and it was only a quick lick that stopped the drop of blood from staining her new skirt. 

“Damn.”

The noises from outside didn’t stop, maybe something rattling, but there were only a few dresses on her line and nothing could be seen through the closed window. The chickens were silent, despite the strange noises. The gate slamming shut made her jump and the bowl fell from her hands once more. Huffing, she left it there as she went to her door. Whatever was going on outside, it needed to stop. Her road was less travelled, smaller than the main one through the woods. To come here, you had to be looking for her cottage. 

And no one would be looking for her now. 

The door opened and a woman about her age, no longer young but not yet old stood before her. Curls cast shadows over a pale face, and the cloak hid her clothes from view. Slightly shorter, the woman looked up at her with a smile. 

“Hello love, can I stay the night?”

“Who are you?” 

The woman just kept smiling; expression easy as she watched her host with green eyes.

“I’ve got no tears nor food for you, on your way now.”

And the door closed, separating the two women. She waited for the sound of the gate opening and closing again, back pressed against the wood of the door as her heart beat loudly in her ears. Instead, a fiddle started playing outside her door. After a minute or two, she spun around and flung open her door. 

“Why aren’t you gone, _love_?” she emphasised the endearment the stranger had used when asking to spend the night. Somehow, although she knew that she’d been angry at this stranger, she felt only growing warmth as she listened to the fiddle the woman was playing. 

“I’m staying, you have enough food for me to join you and my fiddle’s tuned for playing.”

Her heart still hammering, she let the woman in to her cottage and closed the door. The latch clicking into place seemed to seal some kind of fate. 

“How did you know I would have food for you?”

There was no answer as the stranger simply picked up the fallen bowl and filled it again, taking a new spoon from the hooks next to the window. The sound of soup being ladled and the fire crackling was almost mocking. The stranger pulled a bottle from her basket and placed it on the table. When she continued to stand there, arms crossed as the stranger sat at her table eating her food, the stranger sighed. 

“Come now, you know you want some wine. There’s enough for us.”

With no other answer, she sat down on her other stool, pulling it to the table from next to the fire. The cat had already finished eating what stew had spilled from the dropped bowl and returned to sitting on the warm stones by the fire. It didn’t seem to be bothered by the stranger in her home, so perhaps there wasn’t any danger. 

Taking two cups from beside her, she poured the wine. It wasn’t until the stranger took her own mouthful that she took a sip. Sweetness coated her tongue, bringing to mind rich autumn fruits. It was a warming flavour and the flush rose to her cheeks under the stranger’s scrutiny. For all that they were staring at each other as they drank, it didn’t feel uncomfortable. She shivered; eyes still locked with the green gaze across from her. 

Bowl emptied; the stranger placed it in the basin for washing in the morning. She reached across to where the wine sat beside her, sleeve brushing the back of her hand on the table. It was as if a spark struck her from the fire, and a small gasp passed her lips. She took another gulp of wine to hide her reaction, but the woman across from her gave her a knowing look. Wine reddened lips seemed to draw her gaze. 

“More?” 

She nodded, handing her cup over. Fingers brushed as they passed the cup back and forth. The buzzing under her skin continued to grow. The wine was strong, her head already floating and cares leaving her. The other woman reached down and picked up her fiddle, starting a song without prompting. 

Soon enough, one bottle was empty and a second mostly gone, but the stranger’s fingers stayed steady on the strings and their voices harmonized easily, even if it had been years since she’d sung some of these songs. It was a freeing feeling, and while she had drunk more wine tonight than ever in her life, she did not feel that the way her heart skipped a beat at the coy smiles and filthy songs had anything to do with the red liquid. 

Wine-hot, they’d shed the layers of vest and shirt long ago, and the darkness made her bolder as she reached out to wipe a drop of wine from the corner of the stranger’s lips. In their shifts, the firm figure of the stranger made her conscious of how her own had faded with her years, although she knew she had strength in her limbs. It seemed, however, that the stranger didn’t care to see the imperfections, for her eyes roved over the shadowed figure with a flash of teeth behind her smile. Emboldened, with the next song she stood and started dancing, face flushed and grin wide between her giggles and the words of yet another reel, making the small place feel large so late in the night. 

Rain had started, rattling the shutters, but their songs were louder in the small space than the worries of outside. They’d moved from the stools at the table, to dancing, to her small bed, sitting as close side by side as they could. Feet tired after all the dancing they’d done, the women were content to sing as they swayed together on the small pallet. The bottles sat empty on the table across the room and the fire was burning low, even if there was not yet any trace of dawn. She was half-convinced she’d see the deer outside her window in the morning light if she bothered to look, it felt like she’d been with the stranger that long already. 

“I don’t have another place for you to sleep.” 

“I don’t think sharing will be a problem.” 

Their lips met, sticky with wine, haunting flavour filling her head as they kissed. The stranger nipped her lip and then tongues were meeting, let in by the gasp at the bright pain. By the time she’d chased the flavour of the wine behind the stranger’s teeth, she had no breath left to protest. Pulling back, she looked into eyes that reminded her of a forest at sunset and was lost. 

Falling to the pillows they continued to kiss, fiddle and wine forgotten in favour of a different song altogether. Gasps and moans filled the warm summer air as hands trailed over bodies with a confidence born of familiarity. The shape of the stranger beneath her was not so strange as she settled between spread legs, feeling the heat of her core pressing against her thigh. Another kiss, another taste of autumn as they chased the remnants of wine in each other’s mouths. 

“Oh! Rhia, yes!” came the cry as she traced her hand along the leg curled around her waist. Fabric was lifted, pushed up as her hand kept going until it reached the smallclothes hiding the stranger’s womanhood from her. The way her name fell from red lips made her shiver and she pressed closer in another kiss as she teased the hem of the undergarment. The woman beneath her raised her hips in silent invitation and she slid the tips of her fingers beneath the fabric to tease at heated folds. 

With every small caress there was a twitch of hips, a loss of breath and Rhia flushed with knowing she could affect another in this way. The hazy green eyes that started at her filled her with daring and she sat up, pulling away almost entirely to drag her own shift off of her body, exposing her to the stranger below. The gaze lingered on her breasts and the woman beneath her licked her lips, parting them on a sigh when Rhia leaned over far enough for her tongue to reach a nipple. Rhia threw back her head and soon the woman was sitting up, face buried in her breasts as she licked and sucked marks into the tender skin, teeth pulling on sensitive nipples in order to get another moan from the blonde. 

Satisfied that the pale flesh would show the marks, the redhead pulled back and kissed Rhia again, lips slick with the spit that had gathered. Rhia couldn’t help but tangle her fingers in the red curls and kiss back, panting as her nipples pressed against those of the stranger through the shift. 

“C’mon love, let me see you.” 

Eager hands then pulled at the shift to remove it, sending Rhia tumbling onto her back as the fabric slid from beneath her knees where they were pressed under the woman. She laughed as she fell, then stopped breathing as the beauty before her finally took off the shift. The smirk made those lips irresistible, but Rhia couldn’t move. She simply stared until the redhead bent over for another kiss, hair tickling against her bare skin. With the woman in reach, Rhia tried to tug on the smallclothes still hiding their most private areas, when a chuckle against the shell of her ear made her pause in her desperation. 

“We’ll stay here til the morning, love.”

And Rhia let herself be kissed, explored, as the redhead took her apart in every pleasurable way imaginable. Kisses along the edge of her breast that had her giggle at the tickle. Hair teasing at her skin as the woman shifted above her. A heat pressed against her own through too much cloth to feel anything beyond frustration. Eventually, soft touches of a tongue on her lips, parting her. Deft fingers inside her, bringing her to her limit and then leaving her there, hoping that there would be just that little bit more to bring her over the edge until she’s sobbing. Finally reaching her peak and feeling her wetness flow onto the other woman’s hand. The panting, still frantic kisses and the slickness of a womanhood around her own fingers, the taste of herself and another mixing as she licked her fingers clean. The two of them cresting over and over, seemingly endlessly as the darkness enveloped them. There was no end to the pleasure found in that small bed. 

As she faded finally into sleep, she could have sworn she felt a soft kiss against her cheek, different from all the other affection she’d received that night. The quiet rustling of cloth was as soothing as the bone deep, satisfied exhaustion weighing down her limbs. A final awareness, already fading, led her into her slumber. 

“Thank you, Rhia. I hope I see you again, love.”

Then, dreams. 

**~~~**

Morning came with no trace of rain and a pleasant heaviness to her limbs. The feel of her bed against her skin was unexpected but not unusual in the summer heat. The cat meowed, pawing at her face as she started to move. A gentle stretch made her aware of how pleasantly rested she felt as she sat up, sliding her feet into her shoes and reaching for her shift to cover up enough to let her cat out the front door. 

The sunlight showed it being later in the morning than she had thought. Her gate was closed and her chickens roaming, eating the seeds scattered in her yard. Her dresses were dry, and the garden showed promise for some meals in the next few days. The bucket into the well sat filled on the stone edge, water still cool for all that it was at least midmorning. She took a drink as she filled her pail and felt refreshed. 

The stew from last night was sitting on her table, cooled and ready to eat if she was hungry. Two bottles were tipped over on the table, and Rhia picked them up and set them on the window ledge. She wiped the water left on the table from the bottle with her finger and brought it to her lips. A faint memory of fall fruit danced on her tongue before all she could taste was the salt of her finger. 

The cat meowed again, and she chuckled as she took a small plate and took some pieces of meat out of the stew for the cat, placing it on the floor under the table. With many things already done this morning, maybe she could take some time to play her old fiddle before gardening. 

That night’s dreams were full of dancing and singing like she’d not done in ages, and a warm feeling curling inside of her at the thought of dark red curls mixing with her blonde hair on a pillow full of old feathers. It was as if her fingers were flame, sparking gasps and moans from a figure beneath her before she herself was teased until screaming. The morning light brought nothing but a vague aching feeling between her legs as if she was craving something she’d lost that faded as she opened her eyes. 

The days and nights continued quietly, summer fading to a warm autumn and a chilling winter. The harvest was good and she had many preserves for lasting the long nights, and her animals were staying warm in their small shelter against the wall. Sometimes, Rhia would pull out her old fiddle, but it always left a longing in her heart she couldn’t quite fill, and so as winter drew longer, she played it less and less. Loneliness was never a problem but something wistful sat behind her eyes in the reflection from the well water or the spoon. 

Midwinter came and went with nary a notice and Rhia sat once more quietly embroidering a summer dress in preparation for the coming warmth. The cold wind blew open a shutter and she got up to close it against the frost that would grow from her breath when she heard it. A faint memory, a distant hum on the wind. But there was nothing to see in the sunlight, snow covered woods. She latched it well shut this time and returned to her threads. The cat purred at her feet, upset at having lost its cushion for a moment but quickly settling. 

Her fire burned and her lamp lit her work, her humming kept the cold at bay. Until she realized that she was humming along to a fiddle playing somewhere outside. 

Embroidery left on the floor, cat clawing her way out of the sudden fall of fabric on her, Rhia leapt to the door ignoring the hissing. This time she opened it in time to watch the red-haired stranger open her gate, fiddle at her shoulder. A smile lit her face as she remembered the night spent with her, dancing and drinking and loving. 

“Do I get a name to call you this time, love?”

“Don’t you know me, Rhia?”

The redhead had by then reached the door, feet skipping along the ground without quite shifting the stones on the pathway. Rhia pulled her into a kiss, no need for fairy wine to warm her to the woman in her arms. They’d been lovers before the mortals had come to this land and would be well after they’d died. The women could not waste the few opportunities they had to be together. 

“It’s good to see you again, Dana.”

Then they were in the warmth of the house and dancing towards the bed, memories and dreams bubbling under their skin as they made new ones to join the summer night in their minds. The thump of bodies hitting the straw in the pallet was satisfying, as was the rapid removal of clothing. Rhia was eager to taste Dana’s mouth again, but the other woman put a finger to her lips as she pulled the blankets over them to ward off the chill. 

“The moon is still gleaming; the winter night is long before the dawn.”

And the two women met again, as they had many times before, and would do many times until the sun rose again. 

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think, comments and kudos give life! 
> 
> If you think this would better fit a different section, let me know but I put it under original fiction because I'm not using actual mythological figures, or people in musical groups in the story and it didn't feel like a fanfic of those things.


End file.
